


Guardian Angel

by Bohemian (Linguam)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: #SaveShadowhunters, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Magnus Bane, Cute, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, M/M, Malec, Protective Alec Lightwood, Sassy Magnus Bane, but let's be real who isn't, soft boyfriends, whom Magnus is so very weak for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguam/pseuds/Bohemian
Summary: If asked, Magnus would be the first one to admit that he’s got a bit of an ego. It’s inevitable, really, when you out-age most family lines. And, since he’s been on the receiving end of every judgment known to man, he also finds immense pleasure in proving others wrong—especially when the “other” in question is an arrogant Shadowhunter with a superiority complex.Which is why Magnus now finds himself in the designated training area, about to engage in some “friendly sparring” with Oaktree, a newly transferred Shadowhunter from the Californian Institute.





	Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I've neglected the fandom these last three weeks, so here is another fic that's been sitting on my laptop half-finished for I don't even know how long (now, if we can all just collectively ignore the immensely high _im_ probability that this would ever happen on the show, that'd be great).
> 
> Also, I really don't like the title, so I'll probably come back and change it when I've managed to obtain a fresh perspective. If you have any suggestions, _please_ don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy, lovelies! <3
> 
> Edit: Some book fans have brought to my attention that "Blackthorn" already figures as a family line in the book series and, apparently, they're not an appropriate choice for a "villain." Thus, the name has now been switched to "Oaktree" (Idk you guys, names are hard). Any distress this may have caused was unintentional, and I apologize (I'll admit I did get a good laugh out of it though).
> 
> Clearly, you learn something new everyday! Thank you, book fans! <3

Magnus isn’t really sure how this happened.

He had graced the New York Institute with his presence for the sole purpose of whisking away his workaholic, _I-have-a-rune-for-that_ boyfriend for lunch. They have both been working too much lately, the only time spent together that in the dead of night, in between sleepy kisses and lazy touches that never led anywhere, and Magnus, for one, misses having an actual _conversation_ with his Shadowhunter.

Well, he misses certain _other_ activities as well, to be sure. But mostly, he just craves a moment to simply _be_ with his boyfriend.

In hindsight, he should’ve retreated to Alec’s room after finding out that his meeting with some Clave officials was running late. Instead, he’d wandered the Institute halls and overheard a conversation about Downworlders and how they “rely solely on their baser, animal instincts” in a fight rather than skill.

If asked, Magnus would be the first one to admit that he’s got a bit of an ego. It’s inevitable, really, when you out-age most family lines. And, since he’s been on the receiving end of every judgment known to man, he also finds immense pleasure in proving others wrong—especially when the “other” in question is an arrogant Shadowhunter with a superiority complex.

Which is why Magnus now finds himself in the designated training area, about to engage in some “friendly sparring” with Oaktree, a newly transferred Shadowhunter from the Californian Institute.

The rules are simple: no magic, no runes, and no blood-letting. First man to fell the other wins. They’ve managed to attract quite a few onlookers as well—after all, it isn’t every day that you get to witness the High Warlock of Brooklyn facing off against one of your own. There’s even a bet on who will come out of the fight victorious and, if Magnus heard correctly, it’s currently in his favor.

He smirks as he ducks a sloppily thrown punch with ease. He’s definitely holding his own, and it’s clear that his opponent is not appreciative of finding out that the fight is more evenly matched than he’d probably planned.

The tension is thick enough to touch when, after what to a Shadowhunter must seem like an embarrassingly short amount of time, Magnus feigns to the side and manages to swipe Oaktree's legs out from under him.

The Shadowhunter lands unceremoniously on his butt. There are a few, barely controlled snickers from the audience. Jace gives a loud whoop and Izzy, the designated “judge” of the whole affair, doesn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Magnus says. He turns to the rack behind him and reaches for his coat. Maybe Alec will be done with his meeting by now. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, Shadowhunter,” he throws over his shoulder. “After all, I’ve been alive longer than most forms of martial art.”

Oaktree snarls. The sound is more animalistic than anything Magnus has ever heard uttered by a werewolf.

“Then how about we even the odds?”

There is the sound of movement, of metal scraping against metal. Clary screams his name. Magnus barely has the time to turn around and summon his magic before his opponent drops the knife in his hand with a cut-off scream, an arrow piercing his arm.

Wide-eyed, Magnus looks to his left just in time to see Alec push his bow into Clary’s unexpecting hands and then he’s striding toward them, expression positively murderous. He grabs Oaktree and twists him around, pinning him hard enough against the wall that the wood creaks.

“What the hell, Lightwood!” the man yells indignantly. “Get off me!”

“I don’t know how you do things in California,” Alec growls. “But here in New York, attacking Downworlders without provocation is a violation against the Accords.” 

“It was just a friendly fight!”

Alec flips Oaktree around so they’re face to face, and the barely restrained fury radiating off of him seems to add several inches to his already considerable height.

“That’s what you call _attacking_ your unarmed opponent from behind?”

“Oh, knock it off,” the other man snarls. “It’s not like I would’ve killed him; nicked him a little, yeah, so he learns his damn place, but…”

Alec’s expression goes completely blank. Magnus’ eyes are glued to him like moths to a blazing bonfire, but still he doesn’t see him move.

In the next moment, the knife intended for Magnus’ back plunges into the wood just left of Oaktree’s head.

No one in the room breathes.

“Take him to a cell,” Alec orders, jaw clenched so tight it’s a wonder the words get out at all. “The Clave will decide what to do with him.” He leans closer, voice low but hard enough that the words hit the walls like a slap. “If you ever set foot in my Institute again, you’ll _wish_ deruning was the worst I’d do to you. Now _get. out._ ”

Oaktree gapes, eyes so wide it’s a small miracle they don’t fall out of their sockets. Two Shadowhunters—Underhill and someone Magnus doesn’t recognize—step forward and lead him away.

Alec turns to the room at large, pinning every onlooker with sharp hazels.

“Anyone who shares these views, I want your request for a transfer on my desk by noon. I’ll write you a recommendation based on your performance, but I can’t have anyone here destroying all the hard work we’re doing to improve Shadow World relations in this city. Any questions?”

Silence is all that meets him.

Alec gives a stiff nod.

“Then get back to work.”

People disperse, returning to their various duties, but Magnus doesn’t pay them any attention; all of his focus is on Alec, who is marching over, the hard expression from a moment before replaced by one of concern.

“Hey,” he says, hands gripping Magnus’ shoulders, eyes darting over his body. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God, Alec,” Clary says as she joins them, the awe in her voice unmistakable. “That was _amazing_. For a second there I really thought you’d stab him!”

“Never doubted you for a second, bro,” Jace says confidently, sauntering over with Izzy on his heels.

Izzy snorts.

“Please, you were just as clueless as the rest of us.” She looks at her older brother, frowning. “Though no one would’ve blamed you if you had. Oaktree’s an ass.”

“Magnus,” Alec says, ignoring them. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

No. No, Magnus is not okay at all; he is _very far_ from okay. He is, in fact, extremely, undeniably, inappropriately turned on right now and it’s taking all of his rapidly dwindling self-control not to throw himself at Alec and ravage him right there on the spot.

Izzy clears her throat. The grin in her voice is impossible to miss.

“So, what do you guys say we go and grab some lunch?”

“Long as you’re not cooking,” Jace snipes. Their voices drift as they move further away, until there’s only Alec and Magnus left in the room.

Alec is still watching him with faint concern. He releases his grip on Magnus’ shoulder in favor of cupping his neck, and the gentleness of the gesture when compared to how the same hand was white-knuckling a knife hilt only moments ago makes Magnus go weak all the way down to his toes.

“Hey, you good or— _oomph._ ” Magnus swallows the rest of the sentence, mouth crashing against Alec’s and hands eagerly moving to grab at Alec’s belt, pulling their bodies flush together.

“Wait- what- _Magnus-_ ” Alec stutter-gasps, but he doesn’t try to break away, and Magnus abandons his lips in favor of devouring his neck and the Deflect rune. He feels Alec’s breath quicken, and gives an experimental roll of his hips, his own desire pooling hot and heavy in his stomach when Alec jerks in response.

“That,” Magnus breathes into saliva-slick skin in-between kisses. “Was incredibly hot, Alexander.”

“Yeah?” Alec says, breath hitching as Magnus nips at his neck. “I, uh, I assume that means you’re okay, then?”

“Oh, darling,” Magnus purrs, grinning widely at the shiver that runs through Alec’s body at the endearment. “I am _so_ much more than okay.”


End file.
